


All I Want For Christmas

by KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Judi calls him 'Uncle Daryl', Judith and Daryl being ADORABLE, Judith is three, M/M, Opening gifts, Prompt Fill, Rickyl Writers' Group Secret Santa 2016, and sassy and demanding, as she should be, cuteness, i am dying, like idk how I even wrote this, past Rick/Michonne, send help, so fluffy you might choke on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic/pseuds/KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic
Summary: Daryl has had very bad luck the past few years of actually being home ON Christmas, and has missed pretty much all of them, but this year he manages to accidentally show up after his run on Christmas Eve. Lucky for a certian three-year-old, because Judith REALLY wants Daryl to help her open gifts on Christmas morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RickGrimesLover1010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickGrimesLover1010/gifts).



> And my Secret Santa is the lovely Eleni <3 who wanted Daryl helping Judith open her gifts
> 
> I got a little carried away, I do that - it was supposed to be under 4k, oops. This was so fluffy I had to stop and write it in increments, I'm not used to the fluff but I did end up enjoying this and I almost wanted to continue it XD but I do hope you like it dear. Merry Christmas C: 
> 
> Also thank you my beautiful and amazing fan-wife, Ijustwantedyoutoneedme, for beta-ing this once again, and talking me through my slight bits of insanity. <3

Daryl hadn’t been around as much the past few years, since they had started up recruiting again. With a new approach and objective of visiting the various groups that had been stuck under Negan’s influence like bugs pinned to a foam board – his own personal, squirming insect collection – to tell them the man was no longer their problem. That they could live and grow and trade without fear for the group called the Saviors, it was an important job that Alexandria and the Hilltop put as a top priority. Rick included.

But no one had known how long it would take, or how far Negan’s slimy hands had reached across the Eastern coast, that they had even transcended _states_. Which kept both Daryl and Aaron away from home for months at a time.

At first Aaron had been very good at keeping track of time, of the days and weeks that they were gone from Alexandria and their surrounding communities, but after over a year of leaving and returning everything blended down to months – and the year after that it blurred even further into just the seasons. At least for Daryl, who felt so separated from his home and his family that it had been hard the first year to be gone so constantly and then return to a place that had just carried on without him. He returned, reported like the good soldier he’d become, and packed up again to do it all over again – barely having time to step in and see Maggie and the baby that was growing so fast, cuff Carl upside the head lightly and remind him to stay out of trouble. To toss a bag of stale M&M’s at Michonne he’d found somewhere far away, check that Carol was still smiling sometimes, or share a cigarette with Rick on the porch, and pretend it didn’t hurt that he could slip so easily back into his home as easily as he would slip out the next day. Sometimes he wouldn’t have time to go through his checklist, physically visit each member of the group he called his family – his kin – before someone would be ushering him out the gate with news of another community. Another sense of duty that never ceased to call for him, when all he wanted to do back then was just stay at home.

But the one thing he did every time he came back to Alexandria, without fail and even at the expense of his own travels, was visit Judith.

He had been so scared of her as a baby, so small and fragile – and he couldn’t have told anyone what made him snatch her up at just a few hours old to feed her in that dirty prison cafeteria – but he hadn’t dared to really _hold_ her after that until he was no longer afraid of hurting her. She had been all soft skin, fragile bones, limp limbs and wide smiles, bright blue eyes that saw _everything_ and loved to lock on his own when he was in the room. Daryl really should’ve known better, that by the time she could finally crawl on her own – the little speed demon that she was on all fours like her knees were buffed in turtle wax – that she would make a beeline for him the moment he walked through the door.

That little girl latched onto him every time the Dixon managed to make it home from the long runs outside the walls of Alexandria, begged and jumped until he picked her up. Before she could even manage to string coherent words together she would babble and talk at him in gibberish that made him smile – until she grew up a little more, and then it was the unrelenting rain of questions and stories and happiness that was always so unexpected after the quiet of the world among the walkers. And soon after it became apparent that she would always run up to him when he stepped through the door, that wide smile and curved squint of blue eyes – that looked _so much_ like Rick and Lori it hurt – became his beacon that told Daryl he was finally _home_.

Home was his arms full of a little girl that loved him more than anything, her father darting around the corner with wide eyes that softened as he smiled at his long time friend returning home, each member of his family coming to hug him and tell him that they missed him – Daryl had to get used to the hugs very early on, because once it started no one let him get out of not being on the receiving end of them.

And it didn’t take long for the Dixon to start longing for those too.

\--

Winter was picking up later and later each year, and Daryl wasn’t used to the Virginia snows even after living and driving through them for the third consecutive time – and Aaron loved to give the born and bred Southern country boy a hard time about his warm-blooded roots. From the first faint traces of frost in the fall all the way to the first budding blooms in spring Daryl would be bundled up in layers upon layers of clothing to fight the cold. This season in particular was very windy and chilly without the threat of snow or ice staying for longer than the morning on the roads and bridges – at least during the months Aaron deemed to be October and November – but that had nothing to do with the worry that had settled so heavy and cold in Daryl’s chest.

They hadn’t heard of any more groups that Negan had taken over, they were traveling as far as they ever had inland to reach the ones they’d already visited and spoken to and beyond – flirting at the edge of the Midwest and combing through the country sides dangerously. If they didn’t find any on the Western front, then it would be their last side to check: they had reached the coast, gone as far North as New York and as far South as Florida, so if the West was clear too they could _finally_ go home and stay there.

After his last return home – and what had happened in the short 24 hours he’d been able to remain there – Daryl didn’t know if that prospect made him nervous or excited. But either way the thought that this could be _it_ made his heart beat so hard in his frozen chest that it rattled his cigarette-abused lungs. The Hilltop doctor loved to remind him how susceptible he was to bronchitis so far North in the cold almost as much as Daryl loved to light up a smoke in the middle of their heart-to-heart conversations.

Before they had left Alexandria, Daryl and Rick had had a long talk with a few others about the run they were taking – about how long it would last this time, about if it was _necessary_ or not, and the level of danger it involved wandering into uncharted territory in the middle of winter. Rick had been very adamant about Daryl _not_ going, that he and Aaron didn’t need to risk it and they would survive until Spring – the snow would be enough of a barrier between them and whatever else lay to the West. But the others had wanted to get it done, and Daryl had remained silent the whole time – not wanting to argue their point because they were right, but not wanting to betray Rick’s trust either. Michonne in particular felt very strongly about them getting this last trip done and over with so there would be no surprises come spring – and though she and Rick had found a peaceful friendship bound through years as a family and fighting side by side, even years after their break up they could still fight like two cats in a burlap sack. He knew better than to step between that.

But Rick had pulled him aside before he and Aaron left, spoke low and quiet that they didn’t have to stay out as long as they said they would – eight weeks was a long time, and Rick wanted him home safe before the snows took over the landscape. Daryl had tried to grin, an aborted motion that didn’t completely succeed, and mumbled teasingly, “Think I know a thin’ or two about stayin’ alive ov’r the winter out there.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” Rick reminded him, blue eyes boring into Daryl’s own to make sure his point stuck with the archer – as if his words weren’t always heard like gospel to the Dixon’s ears, as they had been for all the years he’d known him. “So make sure you get home, safe.” Daryl had nodded, not expecting the emotion behind the words, but held them close the entire time he and Aaron were searching the countryside.

And that had been nine weeks ago.

\--

There was nothing out there, empty farms and ghost towns and giant herds of walkers that were disintegrating with each step they took. The two men had turned back earlier than they planned, but it still took far too long to get back to their part of Virginia, the days stretching long and blurring together as the cold seeped in around them and turned the roads to ice. Then snow, and lots of it, with no end in sight – so with a new found sense of determination they made it home far after dark on a day Daryl couldn’t place, and at the time didn’t even care. The hunter was just happy to see the tall tin walls and rows upon rows of houses, a welcomed sight even through the blur of snow falling in the night.

Aaron dropped Daryl off outside the house in the street, the jeep large enough to get through the foot of fresh snow on the ground, though Daryl almost retracted his feet back into the vehicle when his boot disappeared in the fluffy flakes. He had to wade through after hopping out, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets with only a short nod to the other recruiter waving goodbye to him as he drove to his home a few houses down. The entire street was covered in a thick blanket as the flurries continued to fall in the darkness, only the houses standing like pale ghosts among the few trees with a handful of windows glowing to catch the shadowed blizzard. Rick’s house, where Daryl and Michonne (and Carol used to) live, had a few windows lit up as well from the kitchen and where Carl’s room laid on the second floor. It was late, Judith would be asleep and so would Michonne if she had early morning rounds – there was even a chance Rick wouldn’t be home if he was on rotation. And despite all of that the sight of this giant house that could’ve fit his childhood home three times over, all decked out like a gingerbread house, made something thaw inside Daryl’s frozen chest. He made it to the front porch without turning into a popsicle, not bothering with being quiet as he climbed the steps and fumbled for the key hidden above the door.

Inside was warm, glowing faintly from some candles in the entryway among pieces of greenery that had never been there before, and Daryl eyed them warily as the scents of cinnamon and pine filled the space warmly – bringing faint memories to the surface that he couldn’t quite place. But it all disappeared when a familiar face came around the corner, hand instinctively hovering over his left hip, only to relax at the sight of the bundled up hunter covered in melting snowflakes and still shivering slightly.

“Daryl,” Rick smiled, slow and gentle as he leaned a shoulder against the wall, bright eyes skittering over every inch of him so obviously looking for injuries Daryl had to catch his line of sight and give him a look in reprimand.

“Cold as balls outs’de,” Daryl mumbled, taking off his damp fingerless gloves and throwing them gracelessly to the ground as he kicked off his snow-powdered boots. “Jus’ keeps comin’ down.”

“Did you run into trouble?” Rick asked quietly, creeping closer as Daryl stripped off layer after soaked layer onto the ground in a heap. “You were s’posed to be back a week ago.”

“Jus’ the weather,” Daryl told him without looking up, so bone-tired the more the comforting sense of _home_ sunk in the more he could feel each aching joint and sore muscle just give up and call it a night before he’d even made it out of the foyer. “There’s nuthin’ else out there ta run into.” It was a quiet statement, meant to sound flippant, but it came out heavy and full of meaning – full of a leading sense of resolution that made Rick’s eyes brighten in disbelief.

“… you mean that?” Rick didn’t have to ask, or confirm when Daryl looked at him with a tired but happy squint to his eyes behind damp bangs and nodded once. Short, firm, and clear as a bell. He didn’t have to leave anymore to find surrounding groups, to gather the stranded pieces left by Negan and the Saviors, because there was no one else to find. He could finally stay home.

Rick didn’t hold himself back that time. He’d been swaying on his feet, and giving the archer his space though his shoulders twitched and the smile hadn’t left his eyes. But when Daryl nodded Rick grinned so wide it shone in the dark hallway – he closed the space between them and wrapped the sweat-chilled redneck in a hug so strong Daryl could feel it in his bones. Pulled him tight and held on, not letting go for quite a few minutes that stretched far too long and also felt short as a breath – because Daryl’s had been stolen, he couldn’t breathe with how hard Rick was hugging him, and was only able to do so when the constable finally released him and led him in a daze towards the bright kitchen.

He and Aaron had driven all night, the other recruiter bound and determined to be home that night though Daryl didn’t know why, had even offered to drive the whole way so Daryl could sleep. But Daryl could never sleep when they were driving in the snow, he still almost had a stroke when he had to endure it himself, but sitting and watching Aaron drive them to their deaths in the middle of a snow storm did not make a relaxing 12 hour trip – Daryl had his hand permanently attached to what Merle used to affectionately call the “bitch handle”. Always loved to give him crap about how a tiny handle on the ceiling of the car was not going to save him from flying through the windshield if they crashed, but it still made Daryl feel better to have something to hold onto while they flew over the ice. But as a result of not sleeping and being so on edge his shoulders were basically one giant knot of tension, not helped by the cold, Daryl’s exhaustion made all bright lights unbearable and standing up an endurance trial he was ready to give up on.

“You look dead on yer feet,” Rick said quietly, Daryl basically had his eyes shut in the kitchen even though the lights were dimmer and tinted red it seemed – or his brain was playing tricks on him. He leaned on the counter for all of two minutes in his still damp pants and long sleeved shirt (that may or may not have had two shirts under it, he was _not_ used to the damn cold even two years later) before he was being steered into the living room. Rick knew Daryl preferred to sleep on the couch the nights when he returned home, however brief they were, falling asleep to the sounds of the house and all the occupants living and breathing and _safe_ inside it. The paisley monstrosity wasn’t comfortable, but it was like a featherbed in comparison to the back of that damn jeep, so it only took a moment for Daryl to collapse onto the long stretch that was still far too small for him. Feet and ankles dangling over the arm, arms crossed and shoulders hunched to pillow his head and neck, eyes closed against whatever faint light still made it into the living room – and within minutes he was out like a light. Only stirring lightly when a blanket draped over his form, and what felt like fingers brushing hair from his nose so it stopped tickling him with each inhale, and it reminded him of Carol.

But Carol hadn’t lived in the house for almost two years.

Daryl fell asleep with a small smile and a light heart, and not remembering why.

\--

The quiet gasp should have woken him first, stark and loud in the early morning, in fact Daryl _knew_ he had heard it somewhere in the deep sleep he’d been wrapped up in – but of course what woke him was the three-year-old getting so close to his face that their noses almost touched.

“ _Daryl_ ,” she whispered none too quietly, making the archer jump and his eyes snap open to see bright blue eyes and a wide smile framed by the brunette mess of curls that showed she had just rolled out of bed. And suddenly Judith Grimes was climbing onto the couch with him and hugging his entire head in her excitement that her Uncle Daryl had returned home safe, which the hunter was having none of so he dragged her down to his level and rolled over until she was pinned to the back of the couch, and hugged her like a giant teddy bear that giggled and kicked at him. “NO! Uncl’Daryl lemme _go_!” Her words were almost unintelligible through the laughter and shrieks that probably woke the whole house, but Daryl just grinned into the couch cushion so she couldn’t see and feigned sleep. “ _Nooo!_ Uncl’Daryl it’s _Christmas_ we gotta op’n _presents_! Get _UP!_ ” she protested, finally getting her feet up to the back of the couch so she could push and try to shove them both off the piece of furniture. And then her words hit him and he had to keep the surprise from showing on his face as she continued to try and remove him from the small couch.

Was it really Christmas?

He hadn’t even had time to figure out how to get the present he’d been wanting to get her – or have luck finding it, anyway. Daryl had been subtly trying to tell Rick that they needed another level of protection around the house, against both walkers and humans alike. Something that thought on its own and had a pair of instincts unlike theirs, but that would be loyal to a fault and stick with them even if something were to go wrong – and, y’know, teach the kids responsibility and shit. The look Rick would send him made Daryl feel all of ten years old again and begging his Ma to let them keep whatever thing he’d managed to find in the woods and drag home, but even growing up Daryl had never been allowed to have a pet. Merle had always pointed out their Pa would probably just kill it, but _damn_ if Daryl didn’t always want a dog. He was still trying to win Rick over, because every time the hunter found a stray outside the walls he seemed to always befriend it somehow – even without meaning to – and wasting half of his ration of food on the mutt that wandered too close. But he figured that getting Judi a little stuffed dog that she could hold and carry around and play with would be a good way to warm both the little girl and her father up to the idea.

He just hadn’t had time to find one, though. The two recruiters had been too worried about the weather and getting home the past couple weeks for either of them to remember that a holiday as big as Christmas was coming up. Daryl really hadn’t celebrated the Yuletide festivities before the world ended beyond sharing a beer with his brother and exchanging half-assed gifts that still meant something to him back then, not until Beth had insisted at the prison their first year there. She’d kept track on an old calendar that was the wrong year and probably started on the wrong day, but no one had the heart to point out those flaws and just let her have her couple weeks of smiles and excitement. The day had turned out to be a good one, despite Daryl’s previous wariness, and they blew through too much of their good supplies and exchanged personal belongings or handmade items that still meant more than they should have – and that memory was the only good one of Christmas Day that he’d ever had. He had missed the last two years, and the year before had been a bad time with Negan lurking in their shadows that no one wanted to remember. How the hell could he have missed it _again_?

“Judith,” came a voice from somewhere above them, lilted with the hints of a smile, “if ya ask nicely I bet Uncle Daryl will move for ya.” Daryl turned his head enough to peek an eye out through his mess of hair at the man leaning on the back of the couch, grinning at his daughter and longtime friend, and Daryl couldn’t imagine the picture they made. Judi had to be a mess of curls and limbs and the trademark Grimes scowl that bordered on a pout, her boney little shoulders were digging into Daryl’s ribcage uncomfortably but he had refused to budge or appease her demands until she stopped squirming.

“But it’s _Christmas_!” she protested, like that was an excuse for her to get her way, and Rick schooled his grin into a scowl of his own with a raise of his eyebrows showing he was waiting – Daryl considered feigning sleep and letting out an exaggerated snore, but then the girl huffed the longest suffering sigh and seemed to square her shoulders and shift up as best she could. “Uncl’Daryl, can you _please_ get up so we can op’n presents?”

Daryl let out a sigh of his own, just as long and suffering and mimicking the small child pressed between him and the couch like a quarter buried between the cushions. “I guess,” he conceded, murmured into the arm of the couch as he shifted so he slyly got an arm under the little girl, and then with a quick flip turned them both over so she was half tumbled over the edge with only his strong arm holding her up as she shrieked and giggled like she was 10 months old again. Held close to his chest so he could press his cheek to hers and ask with a questioning lilt, “but who says yer gettin’ any presents? I didn’ bring ya nuthin.” Breaking the news to her and Rick now was probably better while they were being silly about it, though it still stabbed at his heart that he didn’t have anything for the three-year-old Grimes kid, or for any of his family. He’d have to cook or something to make it up to them.

Judith scoffed in a huff that was so like his own he could hear Rick choke on a laugh and bury his face in his arm where it was leaning on the back of the couch still. “Don’ be silly. You don’ gotta bring any presents if ya _are_ one, that’s no’t how it works Uncl’Daryl – don’ you know nuthin?”

The confusion must have been plain on his face, and Daryl honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been that _stunned_ by what someone had said to him. But if he had to think about it, it was probably something Rick had said. A lifetime ago when he was just starting to learn that your kin didn’t mean your relatives, and your blood didn’t mean you heritage. When he started realizing he could choose his own family, and that the one he had found were going to claim him whether he really wanted them to or not. But he found he really did want it, to have a group he called family, and nothing short of an act of God could keep him apart from them now.

“Start makin’ sense munchkin, b‘fore I start getting hungry an’ decide you can be m’breakfast,” he growled playfully, making an exaggerated attempt to poke at any fleshy bits on her like he was picking his choice of cut at the steak house.  “Which part’a ya is the best fer cookin’?”

“Probably that belly full’a Christmas cookies,” Rick teased, and Daryl was getting the odd feeling that he was trying to change the subject and round them back to opening gifts.

“No no no I’ll tell ya,” she giggled, trying to squirm her way out of Daryl’s grip though he held her tighter and grinned into her dark curls. “Promise, don’cha eat me – I taste bad!”

“Don’ sound like it, ya save any cookies fer me?”

“We made a bunch! Truckloads, honest!” She bargained, twisting to look her adoptive Uncle in the face with excitement once again sparking in her clear blue eyes. “We made cookies, an’ hot chocolate, and wrote letters cause I’s learnin’ how ta write now! Can ev’n write my name! Daddy wrote the rest, sayin’ wha’ we want’d fer Christmas!”

“An’ ya want’d me?” he grinned teasingly, knowing it was coming off as more of a smirk that didn’t match how much his heart was constricting in his chest. He let the tilt to his lips soften to something that was barely there. “Ya know ‘m always comin’ back, sweetheart. I’d nev’r stop tryin’ anyhow. No matt’r what.”

“I know. But we want’d ya here on _Christmas_ ,” Judith insisted, wide eyes and messy curls and everything that reminded Daryl of home. “It was Daddy’s idea – he said all he want’d was fer you to come home safe an’ not hav’ta leave again. An’ I want’d ya here to op’n my presents with me, ya ain’t ev’r been here on Christmas b’fore. Ya were always gone. So that was our wish.” She smiled bright as the sun as a thought came to her, “And it worked.” Her eyes shifted to over Daryl’s shoulder and grinned, “I tol’ja it’d work! Two wishes is twice as strong.”

Daryl had been so close to letting his grip on her go, too.

He hugged her tight again, not sure what to say, and not really able to look at Rick either but he didn’t have to worry about trying to turn around what could’ve possibly ended up as an embarrassing situation for everyone. Because he might’ve done or said something stupid if Judi hadn’t hugged him just as tight, to the point he couldn’t have spoken if he tried, and then shoved him back with more strength than a three-year-old should possess to remind him there were gifts to open and since Daryl was her and her _father’s_ present this year he was duty bound to help her open them.

Dragged to his feet and led by the wrist, Daryl only got to catch a fleeting glimpse of where Rick was still standing behind the couch with his fingers buried into the back cushions like he’d float away if he wasn’t holding on – watching him with a soft expression Daryl couldn’t really place when Judi’s excited babble made a white noise between them. But it was enough to make Daryl swallow hard, to try to return the smile that was alight in Rick’s eyes, before he was leaving the room and heading towards the sitting room by the front door. Daryl wasn’t sure how he hadn’t smelled the strong scent of pine needles and tree sap the night before, it filled the whole house and gave it the aroma of a forest that was soothing to Daryl’s lungs and rapidly beating heart.

Carl was stumbling down the stairs as they approached, and he had yet to notice Daryl through the long fringe of hair that was a mess so early in the morning, so the hunter got a chance to tousle it roughly as he and Judi came up the side hall by the stairs. The teenager whirled and his one visible eye widened at Daryl’s presence but couldn’t get a word out before Judi was physically pushing their Uncle into the room and past Michonne on the couch – who was all blaring white teeth and snickering laughter. She winked at him, and he managed to escape the toddler’s grip long enough to lean over and give her a one-armed hug while she kissed his scruff covered cheek before Judi was loudly protesting once more and dragging him back by the hand. “Noooo ya gotta sit ov’r here wit’ me!”

An entire corner of the room was taken up by a _huge_ pine tree that Daryl didn’t want to imagine how they hauled through the front door, covered in all sorts of odds and ends and unlit candles – which the hunter squinted at because he _knew_ there were old Christmas lights in the garage. They couldn’t take up that much electricity, but Rick just had to be practical about stuff, and it made him wonder if Judith had ever even seen Christmas lights before. He’d have to change that before the day was out, he decided.

\--

The next hour passed in a blur of excited shrieks and packages being shoved in Daryl’s hands, both Judi’s and his own, and his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor by the tree where the pine scent was dizzying in the best of ways was usually also occupied by the hyperactive three-year-old. Claiming his personal space and using the hunter as a chair, making herself comfortable each time so she could demand her Uncle’s assistance in opening gifts or insist on her own for his. Daryl was surprised he had gifts at all, as he was every year really – though the first year at the prison had been the pinnacle point on that front – and really the redneck didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it.

Most of the items were things he could use to help bundle himself against the cold, which was thoughtful and now a pleasantly moot point since he would no longer have to brave the elements on a constant basis, but he wouldn’t dare say a word besides gratitude as Judi helped him wrap a scarf around his neck that was thick enough to battle the worst snowstorm. He had spent most of the time focusing on Judi and the others that slowly dwindled in and gave him warm greetings, dropped off more gifts – all knowing there was no stopping a small child from opening presents on Christmas morning, and not at all offended that they got started without them – although he couldn’t help but be reminded each time that he hadn’t been able to get the little girl the stuffed dog he wanted to.

He also used all of the above distractions to avoid the frequent amount of times his gaze strayed to Rick Grimes and how often Rick was looking back, how his stare would catch and snag like the most stubborn of fabrics and how it was harder to tear himself away each time Judi demanded his attention once more. Until an instance came when he looked up and Rick was no longer standing by the entryway that he’d occupied a majority of the time, and if anyone noticed that he’d sat up a little straighter and looked around the room to see if Rick had just moved out of sight then no one said a thing.

Except for Judith.

“He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Judith huffed at him, fiddling with a burlap sack and trying to get the rough tie loose with a narrowed expression and a frown. “Be righ’ back, said I’d need somethin’ fer this – HA!” she shouted in triumph as she got the bag open and dumped its contents on the floor. A thick leather band with heavy metal buckles hit the hardwood loudly, and Judi’s expression dropped to that careful blank one – to hide her confusion – that was so akin to her father’s Daryl would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been staring just as hard. Judith didn’t know what it was, but Daryl did. “What’s this for?” she demanded, picking it up and holding it to inspect it further.

“It’s for him,” Rick said over Daryl’s shoulder and much too close, leading something large and warm and fuzzy past Daryl’s shoulders and knee, and the hunter’s hand shot out to catch hold of the animal before it could get too far – though he didn’t need to worry about that, it was all squirming excitement and wet licks and in his face faster than he could blink.

“PUPPY!”

“You got us a dog!?” Carl shouted, and though his rough teenage voice cracked and could’ve been mistaken for angry they all knew he was just as surprised as Daryl probably looked, because soon he was on the ground by Daryl and Judi and holding onto the lightly large dog and looking younger than he had in years. Taking over the grip Daryl had in its thick fur – looking to be some sort of husky mix with the bulky torso and thick winter coat – though the hunter letting go of the mutt took more effort than he would’ve liked to admit. He’d always wanted a dog, another reason he had tried to convince Rick to have one around besides the other hundred he had listed in his effort.

Daryl turned to look at Rick, who was still right behind him crouched low to the ground and watching his children and the dog with that same caution that came from being both a parent and the leader of their group, but his gaze flicked over to Daryl’s when he caught the hunter looking at him. “You listen’d to me?” Daryl asked, quiet so the kids couldn’t hear.

And Rick smiled softly, something light and wonderful in his eyes as they crinkled with the motion. “I always do.” There was a decision made in that moment, it showed with a determined glint in Rick’s expression, and then he was leaning in and pressing his lips lightly off center from Daryl’s mouth. It was short but couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a kiss – and Daryl’s lips parted in shock as Rick pulled back, everything falling into place so suddenly he was stunned into silence. His shock bruising into a hopeful desperation that spread across his face with the warm blush that was tinting it, disbelief and something that might have been happiness bleeding through as well. Rick returned the hopeful smile with a slight one of his own, nervous and careful but hopeful all the same. “Merry Christmas, Daryl. I’m glad you’re home.”

He felt all of two seconds away from grabbing the other by those dark messy curls and kissing him back, though he didn’t get a chance because the young mutt decided to investigate the hunter with all the enthusiasm of the puppy it used to be – nearly bowling him over as he tried to fit in his lap and licked his shocked face until the hunter was grinning as bright as the sun, unpracticed and a little awkward but so real and freeing the wide smile almost split his face. Rick’s quiet laughter in his ear making the swelling feeling in his chest burst with warmth and Daryl turn to bury his red, grinning face in the dog’s wild fur.

Merry Christmas, indeed.


End file.
